


And If You Wanna, I Might

by burymeinziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeinziam/pseuds/burymeinziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Zayn is kind of dirty and gross and Liam isn't but they like each other anyways</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If You Wanna, I Might

The most awesome thing about it all is the fact that Liam will let Zayn have sex with him at almost any time on any surface in any way shape or form Zayn can fathom. And not only will he let Zayn fuck him, or vice versa depending on time place and mood, but he actually _wants_ to.

With Zayn.

Stink, smelly, self-centered, shitty studio apartment dwelling Zayn who more often than not forgets about everything except how to draw or paint or maybe sometimes those useless facts about dead poets and English monarchs.

Zayn. Gets to have sex. With Liam.

Beautiful, well put together, kind and generous Liam who gets decent grades and writes for that stupid paper a few journalism majors at the university started up. Liam who has friends who smile at him when they pass each other on the way to class and gets invited to parties and joins clubs and chats with his professors whenever he bumps into them in the library or at the coffee shop downtown that Zayn tries to avoid because way too many people go there.

It doesn’t make sense, but Zayn doesn’t really question it because why should he?

“Wanna do it on the floor or against the wall?” Liam asks from somewhere near eclectic pile of junk Zayn can’t be bothered to sort through beside his bed. “Ooooh, new issue, yeah? I don’t think your desk can hold us again.”

“Um, floor?” Zayn answers absentmindedly, chewing on his bottom lip as he cocks his head to the side and stares at the canvas in front of him like maybe it’ll tell him the answer to a question he hasn’t yet figured out how to ask. “Something’s missing.”

Liam sidles up behind him, hands sneaking beneath the waistband of the batman pajama pants Zayn had stolen from him a few weeks back (or the one’s Liam left behind and Zayn hadn’t bothered with washing since because they still sort of  smelled like that after sex Liam funk Zayn can never seem to get enough of) before answering. “The eyes,” he says. “I think they need to be a bit more desperate, huh?” He gestures around the general area where the portrait of Zayn’s own face is staring back at him and Zayn decides that maybe this is another reason he might be completely in love with Liam. “I’m surprised you even noticed that I was here,” Liam adds, nipping at Zayn’s ear. “You’re so sexy when you’re focused.”

Zayn bits his lip, chokes back a moan, and then tries to go back to focusing on the canvas. “I actually didn’t,” he says as he adds a bit of black to the background with quick, decisive strokes. “But I think my dick is more in tune with your presence than my mind is so I’m only assuming that you got here around fifteen minutes ago.” Zayn dabs a bit more black onto the canvas. “Am I right?”

Liam laughs one of those breathless things that makes Zayn shiver involuntarily and that’s just about answer enough. “Twenty actually. You were so involved in that self-centered portrait of yours I couldn’t bear to interrupt.” He gives Zayn’s hips a gentle squeeze before letting the elastic of the pajama pants snap back into place as he slips back into the junk covering the floor of Zayn’s apartment.

“Ah,” Zayn muses, knowing that Liam is only kidding because Zayn really isn’t self-centered enough to paint a picture of his face. At least not voluntarily. “You mean this bullshit school assignment that requires us to essentially steal the work of another artist? Yeah. Totally focused.”

 Liam snorts, still hidden somewhere near Zayn’s bed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just come here, will you? I didn’t spend twenty minutes sifting through your shit for nothing.”

“How did you know I’d pick the floor?” Zayn asks, finally locating Liam between a mountain of dirty socks and underwear and a pile of old comic books.

“Because you’re a lazy fucker,” Liam answers cheekily and then snorts at his unintentional joke. “Now, c’mere.”

Zayn shuffles over, carding his sticky, paint covered fingers through unwashed hair without much of a second thought before flopping down on top of the dirty laundry next to Liam. “I’m not that lazy…”

Liam pulls Zayn down on top of him, letting out an “oof” at the oxygen in his lungs being displaced by Zayn’s bodyweight and then smiles at the way Zayn keeps his eyes closed like he doesn’t even have the energy to keep them open after blinking.

Liam kisses him, pulls Zayn’s lower lip with his own and licks his way into his mouth. Liam really does just make it awesome for Zayn, just taking control like this because Zayn is, indeed, a lazy fucker that can’t be bothered to do more than just lay there on top of Liam with his mouth open. Liam does all the tricks – tongue swirling and rolling and sliding and even nibbling on Zayn’s lip just the way he likes. And just as Liam would normally start getting annoyed with Zayn’s lack of participation, Zayn finally rolls his hips down into Liam’s and makes this surprised noise, like maybe he wasn’t expecting Liam to be as hard as he already is.

Zayn also really likes that constant pleased sounding humming noise once Zayn actually puts forth some effort. So, Zayn starts to twist his tongue with Liam’s because it makes the sound climb out of Liam’s chest and into Zayn’s and it’s really doing wonders for his dick. Liam does this sneaky maneuver where he flips them over without biting Liam’s tongue or kneeing him in the crotch and it’s amazing because Zayn hardly even notices. He only realizes the change in position when he opens his eyes and sees a yellowing ceiling instead of mountains and dirty socks which happen to cushion his head as he throws it back and, yeah, Liam is fucking impressive.

Sliding a quick hand down between their bodies, Liam backs off to watch the way Zayn groans as he rubs over the thin cotton crotch of his stolen batman pajama pants. Liam wriggles his fingers until they press the material snuggly against Zayn’s groin so that he can firmly grasp the swelling length beneath the fabric.

“Missed you,” Zayn says behind a gasp of air. “Really; I missed you.”

Liam giggles and then licks his way across Zayn’s crooked smile. “You’re only saying that because my hand is on your dick, Zayn. Plus you saw me three days ago.”

“No. I did, I did,” Zayn pants. “Really,” he breathes. “I missed you.”

And maybe it’s because Zayn made this admission accompanied with the fact that his hair is all fanned out and his cheeks are flushed and pink and he’s all soft and sprawled over the only visible spot on the floor in the room, but Liam can’t take all this waiting anymore. His hips hitch forward, tense, and he grinds down against Zayn’s thigh and has to choke back a noise that would most likely resemble a purr.

A noise gets caught deep in the back of Zayn’s throat and only because Liam has all the sounds Zayn’s ever made burned into his brain, he moves back allowing Zayn enough room to start pulling at his clothes. Zayn tugs at Liam’s shirt, and Liam sits up completely, straddling Zayn’s thighs and takes care of it himself. He tosses it onto Zayn’s bed where it gets lost amongst the other various items of clothing, not that Liam won’t be able to find it since it’s probably the only one that doesn’t smell like that Zayn funk he’s grown so fond of.

The sound that comes out of Zayn’s mouth is impatient now and Liam turns back to him and helps him with his own shirt, another paint covered one to add to the pile. Liam thinks about maybe doing some laundry before he has to leave but then Zayn is pulling him back down, skin to skin, and all other thoughts but _Zayn, Zayn, Zayn_ leave his mind.

“I love how soft you are,” Liam murmurs into Zayn’s neck as he writhes against him. “You’re perfect.”

And then Zayn sighs in the most contented way Liam has ever heard before and he slowly lunges upward to slant his mouth against Liam’s.

“Liam,” Zayn says, almost solemnly pulling away with a sick noise from Liam’s mouth. “Liam.” Zayn brings a hand up to stroke Liam’s cheek and when he turns and nuzzles into Zayn’s palm he really has to fight with himself. Zayn doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is by saying something as insensitive as “God I love you,” when they’re about to have sex. Sex on Zayn’s dirty floor among a pile of laundry that is growing with microorganisms and bacteria than the bottom of the Ganges River. He doesn’t want to do that to Liam.

But then Liam starts kind of gnawing on Zayn’s palm, the sentimental feeling diminishing from Zayn’s chest as he wracks through a set of giggles and Zayn has a feeling that Liam probably knows. And Zayn is okay with that because it’s not all that likely that Liam is going to ask or say anything about it anyways.

Because that would just make things weird – like that time Zayn casually mentioned wanting to maybe experiment with cross-dressing because of the way this fabric moved when they walked past it in the mall. It was a dress – black and almost sheer, maybe chiffon or silk or lace or something, Zayn couldn’t tell. HE wasn’t really thinking about doing it or anything though. Well… not much. But Liam had stumbled a little in his tracks, his shoes scuffing over the cheap linoleum of the floor and looked up at Zayn with really wide, really dark eyes. Zayn couldn’t make much of the expression so he simply breezed onto some other subject, something safe, like how Batman was better than Superman. He hasn’t mentioned it again since.

Liam nips at Zayn’s wrist, bringing him back to the present where there are definitely more pressing matters to be dealt with. Matters like the hardness tight against his stomach as Liam begins making these tiny humping motions while he trails little bites down Zayn’s arm and into his inner elbow, the fleshy parts of his relaxed bicep, to his shoulder and up to his neck and finally back to Zayn’s lips.

Keening into Liam’s mouth, Zayn decides he can’t really take it anymore and he just… he needs more. Zayn needs and wants so much more so he slides his hands across Liam’s back, blunt fingertips pressing harshly into the flesh and trails down to Liam’s ass where he squeezes, almost harshly, so that maybe Liam will catch the hint.

A shudder rips through Liam and Zayn thinks “yeah, that’s it” because Liam is leaning back on Zayn’s thighs and fumbling with his belt buckle for a second while Zayn watches, running his fingers over Liam’s chest. Liam groans in frustration causing Zayn to bite down on his lip, fighting back a smile.

“Don’t sit there looking smug, Zayn,” Liam pants, still tugging at his jeans. “Fucking help me or something, _Jesus._ ”

Snorting, Zayn sits up and nearly knocks Liam from atop his thighs, but Liam is starting to get a little desperate, clenching his own tightly around Zayn’s before relaxing as he grinds slowly back and forth while Zayn works on his belt. Pretty soon Zayn is pissed at the piece of clothing as well because he’s having just as much trouble getting the damned thing unclasped as Liam was.

“Your fucking belt, seriously.” Zayn nearly gets it undone, but one of the clasps goes backwards and is going to take some serious strength to get it to go back to the proper direction. “Oh my God, I’m going to get scissors.”

And only because he’s so frustrated does Zayn actually stand up and start to fight his way through various piles of junk around his floor – comics, stained shirts, charcoals, ratty jeans, underwear, colored pencils, paint brushes – until he makes it to the door. By then Liam is seriously squirming and trying to fix his belt because if Zayn actually got up then Zayn is serious and Liam kind of really likes his belt.

Finally, Liam manhandles the latch back into place. “No, wait, Zayn! I got it!” He shouts, pulling his belt from the loops of his jeans.

Zayn returns, brandishing a huge heavy duty pair of scissors that look like they’re meant to cut tires or something. He snips at the air a few times, making a nice _shing shing_ sort of noise that Liam would have found hilarious if it hadn’t been his belt at stake. “Well, fuck,” Liam,” he whines, dropping the scissors onto his desk and maybe he stamps his foot a little before he can register the fact.

“Get over, please,” Liam says, tone uneven as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Zayn shuffles back through the mess, not getting distracted even though he sees a sketch that he was pretty sure had been lost forever and flops back down into the space that Liam had cleared out. He leans farther onto his back, cushioned by dirty socks, and yanks the batman pants down over his hips and momentarily thanks himself for forgoing underwear that day. Or for being too lazy to pick out a pair of not rancid briefs from the pile on his floor.

Liam groans, eyes locked on the hard length straining from Zayn’s groin and curving up to his belly as he pushes his own pants away from his hips and down his legs. “Jesus, Zayn. Fuck,” he moans as Zayn curves a hand around his own cock, like maybe Liam’s already pressed inside, being squeezed to death by all the slick tightness. “You’re killing me here.” He shakes his jeans off his bare feet kicking them until their lodged somewhere underneath Zayn’s bed.

Patience lost, Zayn leans forward and yanks Liam down on top of him. He thrusts upwards and lets his mouth gape open, too needy to be ashamed of his desperation. Liam promptly grinds down, clothed erection sliding against Zayn’s bare one, tonguing at Zayn’s lips as he does so and Zayn is really really ready to get things moving a little faster.

So Zayn starts tonguing back, something almost disgustingly slick and obscene and straight out of porn but Liam is totally getting a kick out of it – making all these noises and grinding down all frantic and crude while his hands slide all over Zayn’s skin, alternating between gentle patterns and light squeezing as he sees fit. Zayn groans, finding the perfect angle and amount of pressure to make everything feel absolutely godly, fingers pressed firm into Liam’s back and neck.

Liam writhes a little harder, things becoming damp between them, the slide becoming so much sweeter.

“Zayn,” He says, sounding so fucking _undone_. “Yeah.” Then he slides down and, before Zayn is even completely aware of it, has a mouthful of Zayn’s cock.

Zayn’s mouth gapes and little half-noises start and stutter our as he tries to wrap his mind around the intensity of being enveloped by wet and hot and _Liam_. He realizes he sort of sounds like he’s being strangled and then pretends like he can control his vocal chords even though he knows there is close to no hope as long as Liam keeps mouthing, tonguing, and sucking at him. “Just like that, Li; _Jesus fuck_.”

Liam pulls Zayn’s cock further into his mouth, not quite deep throating, but still considerably more than just the average sucking. Zayn squeaks and throws an arm over his eyes.

And then Liam pulls off with a “Sorry, I had to” and slides back up Zayn’s body, moving Zayn’s arm away before he starts grinding against him again.

A whining escapes Zayn’s mouth and then he’s panting “no, no, no, Liam, no; come on… please.” He shoves his hand into Liam’s briefs and curves his hand around Liam all damp with sweat and a little gross but completely perfect and just what they both need. Gripping a little firmer, really getting a feel of the weight and heat of Liam, Zayn starts this grasp-slide-tease technique that he’s sure he picked up from Liam somewhere along the way.

Shuddering, Liam hisses out a “yes” and humps into the tight circle Zayn forms with his fist, practically vibrating.

“Are you – fuck. I’m, God, okay. We have to – like now.” Zayn doesn’t know exactly what he’s trying to say but he knows exactly what he wants to do right this second and it involves Liam’s underwear cast aside and his fingers pressing inside. “Liam,” Zayn groans and lets go of his dick, this time really trying to be coherent. “Take them off. Seriously.”

Zayn already has the lube uncapped and a finger pressed against his own hole, teasing himself open, shuddering before Liam even has his thumbs hooked underneath the waistband of his own underwear. He presses a finger inside and squirms around the feeling of intrusion until it’s a little more comfortable – good even.

“Zayn,” Liam says, his breathy tone making Zayn’s stomach drop. “You can’t just do shit like that. Jesus.”

Zayn glances up at Liam, still paused midway through taking off his underwear, and makes a tiny impatient noise that pretty much says “I fucking can and I fucking will” before Liam flops backwards, landing on a pile of what smells like dirty underwear – like serious straight up funk – and frantically yanks his briefs off. Zayn giggles and then groans as he squeezes around his own fingers, two now, which basically leads him to the realization that he’s practically fucking himself on his own hand. Zayn watches Liam watch him, hand squeezing the base of his cock as Liam groans and Zayn’s stomach does that thing where it turns in on itself again. With his free hand, Zayn reaches back behind his head into the pile of socks to gran the condom so he can toss it over to Liam.

Liam fumbles for the condom, nearly ripping it in half as he tears open the packaging. He’s panting as he slides it over his cock, squeezes the base again, still watching Zayn have a go at himself with his fingers, three now, inside of himself, thumbing at his perineum, head thrown back, neck exposed and writhing and “okay, Zayn,” Liam says. “Okay.”

When Liam scoots closer and runs his hands, rough and calloused due to years of guitar, over Zayn’s thighs he nearly loses it and thinks that he seriously might come before Liam even gets inside of him because this has been the most arduous process he’s ever had to endure just to get at a guy’s dick. But Liam is there, finally, nudging Zayn’s legs apart and the blunt tip of his cock is pressing against his ass and Zayn thinks “okay. This is it.”

“C’mon, Zayn, move your hand,” Liam grits out.

“Oh,” Zayn breaths. “Sorry, sorry. Okay.”

And then finally, Liam folds Zayn’s legs back and starts pressing inside. Zayn’s breath hitches at the overwhelming stretch and sweet burn and the entire “fuck yes that’s exactly what I need” that shudders through his body as Liam melds them together. Zayn scrabbles for purchase, a dirty rag in one hand and nothing but carpet in the other as his fingers dig down and Liam breathes out hot and rough over his neck.

“Ready?”

Zayn practically growls, garbling out something nonsensical and brings his fingers to Liam’s back so he can hold onto something. Flesh, malleable and perfect, gripped tight between his fingers. “Please.”

Liam giggles, then hisses, sucking in a breath as Zayn tightens down on him almost cruelly considering how hard it is to be, well, relatively still to let Zayn get used to the stretch. “Ah, ah, stop, okay, okay, sorry.” And then Zayn lets up and Liam grunts out a “shit” just breathing for a moment because, really.

Things go well, though. A smooth beginning considering how difficult the transition had been.

The carpet is rough against Zayn’s back and Liam’s knees but they’re both too far gone to pay much attention to the minor annoyance. Zayn thrusts up as Liam grinds down, caught between whimpers and moans and gasps for air. It’s slick and tight and the friction makes Zayn’s vision blur as he scrabbles at Liam’s chest, rough hair covering his skin going in and out of focus.

He howls the first time Liam presses in against his prostate and Liam shudders in retaliation, pressing in again even harder which causes Zayn to dissolve into a mess of pleasured gasps that almost mimic sobs. Liam stills, pressing tight against it and Zayn goes numb to everything except for the blinding white pleasure coursing through his body, like starbursts radiating from the base of his spine, the pit of his stomach. He shudders, whimpering, and attempts to writhe away from the almost _too much, too much, too much._

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Zayn chants, like those are the only sounds and words he knows. Liam, sweating and brows furrowed in concentration, slumps closer to Zayn, folding his legs back until his knees are nearly pressed into his own shoulders, and resumes his established rhythm of thrusting. Zayn is reduced to incoherent noises and his eyes see nothing but the sensation of Liam drilling into him, blooms of red and white and pink hot behind his screwed shut eyelids and he thinks, momentarily, that it would make a very pretty picture.

“Jesus, fuck, Zayn,” Liam grits out already too far past close to realize he’s already gone. He comes, hard, silently – mouth agape in a silent scream as his cock empties into the condom. His entire body twitches once, twice, three times before he slumps forward onto Zayn’s folded legs.

Liam shudders a few more times before he pulls out and rolls off to the side, face down on the sock mountain. Zayn really doesn’t think it would be wise to say anything rude like “hey, remember me? You just fucked me until I couldn’t see straight and while that’s all good and well, my cock could really use some sucking right about now” even though he really wants to. Zayn decides to be nice thought, and allows Liam a few more – maybe six – seconds of post coital glow before he nudges him, hand wrapped around his own cock.

Lifting his face from the laundry, Liam groans and reaches underneath himself to extract his cock from the condom which he promptly ties off and flings somewhere near Zayn’s bathroom for later. He sighs, turns to look at Zayn with kind of an “oh hey, what’s up” sort of face eyes half closed. Liam doesn’t even look sorry.

Zayn whines.

“Okay, okay,” Liam says behind a laugh before hefting himself up onto his elbows, reaching into the socks to get the lube, while Zayn watches on with curious eyes, still panting and clutching at his dick. The frantic need to get off has sort of died down a little because, really, as hot as it was to watch Liam come, it was a little too quick to be enough for Zayn. Liam reaches back behind himself, rubbing lube all around his hole. “Here, you can do me now.”

Zayn doesn’t even blink before he straddles the backs of Liam’s thighs.

He spreads his palms over the skin of Liam’s back – thumbs inward as he caresses downward. Liam pushes back, making himself a little more upright so he can spread his knees apart and open up easier for Zayn. “Come on, Zayn, do it,” he says lowly, turning his head to look back at Zayn.

Zayn presses inside while their eyes are still locked, watching Liam’s go in and out of focus and roll back as his jaw drops open. And fuck, if that face doesn’t make the urgency return. Zayn gives Liam an entire sixty seconds to get accustomed to the width and the length – sixty seconds where Liam is gasping and groaning and squeezing down on Zayn – before he finally slumps forward, face turned to the side, cheek sliding against the carpet as his hands come to rest on either side of his head. Zayn stays buried inside, slumping forward with Liam to stay pressed along his back, skin slick between them.

Thrusting forward slowly, Zayn can’t wrap his mind around the feelings – Liam in front of him, gasping like he’s enjoying it even though he came only minutes earlier. The pressure, warmth, wetness, friction – it’s all so fucking perfect. He humps faster, sliding against Liam a little harder, and breathes against Liam’s neck. Zayn leans back and squeezes the hips between his hands, stroking over the small of Liam’s back before he leans back a little further and looks down.

“Oh shit, Li—” Zayn hisses and comes, shuddering and slumping forward onto Liam’s back. He shivers, breathing harshly, wrapping his arms around Liam’s middle and just stays there, enjoying the moment for as long as he can let it last.

Liam relaxes, lets his body slide slowly across the carpet and socks until he’s pressed against them from Zayn’s weight on his back. They both just lay there, breathing.

And then it hits him.

“Liam,” Zayn says, tone calm even though he’s totally sort of completely freaking out – preparing himself for the worst. Something like never seeing Liam again or hearing him laugh or seeing his smile or just – he doesn’t know.

Liam hums something small and content.

“Liam.”

Liam hums again, closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Zayn pressed all along his back.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

Liam hums one more time and adds on a mumbled. “naw, shit…” and moves around, trying to get Zayn off of him. “C’mon, Zayn, move.”

Zayn carefully pulls out and then flops onto his side, lying on his back. Liam sort of braces himself, pushes himself up and shuffles off to the bathroom. Figuring he doesn’t really deserve the afterglow, Zayn instead spends his time flailing – both internally and externally – about the fact that he probably just ruined this entire thing he has going on with Liam.

“Wow, that really does look awesome,” Liam says, bending over to pick up his underwear so he can put it back on. He’s standing in front of Zayn’s easel, tilting his head to the side like he’s critiquing the work. It’s like everything is right in the world and nothing is wrong. Like Zayn didn’t just come in Liam’s ass like the most Inconsiderate Idiotic Asswipe of the Year.

“Uh,” Zayn manages. He keeps his eyes trained on Liam’s back, still lying on the floor in their little nest, unmoving and covered in even more funk. “Thanks…” he adds slowly as he finally decides to sit up.

Liam looks back, eyebrows furrowed. “You okay?”

Zayn swallows because, well, yeah. Of course he’s okay. He’s still sort of enjoying his afterglow even though his stomach is curdling with worry. “Yeah, no, I mean – I’m fine. Yeah,” he fumbles. “Are you?”

Liam steps over Zayn’s art bin, knocks over a few mislaid canvases, and shuffles through all of the dirty laundry until he’s right there, all 5’’11 of him, looming over Zayn. He flops down, lying on his back next to Zayn. “I’m fantastic,” he sighs, blissed out. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Zayn’s face.

Zayn kind of just blinks. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“You already said that.”

“But –”

“But nothing,” Liam says, flipping his free hand into the air. “You think I wouldn’t have stopped you if I wasn’t okay with it?”

Zayn blinks again, slowly. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“Whatever, Zayn,” Liam sighs, and snuggles into Zayn’s side. Zayn doesn’t even tense up or anything – though his hand does twitch like it wants to go flailing about in the air. Snatching the twitching digits between his fingers, Liam links their hands together and –

This is new, Zayn thinks. It’s new but it also feels like them and like a part of Liam that is Zayn’s – and only Zayn’s – to keep. He bites his lip. “Um.”

And Liam smiles, never taking his eyes from Zayn’s face as he says “You are so…”

Zayn doesn’t get it. “What?”

And Liam laughs softly to himself, shakes his head. “You.”


End file.
